Kindling
by italktomyself
Summary: A Rachel-centric look at the file room sex scene. People seem to think it came out of nowhere/it's out of character, so here's an attempt to explain her frame of mind. Rated M for obvious reasons.


As their breathing and post-coital kisses slowed, Mike pulled out of Rachel and suddenly exclaimed, "Oh shit, I came inside you." Their eyes met in a state of mild panic, and it all came back to her. The hurt of her rejection from Harvard, of Louis confirming she wasn't good enough, advising her not to pursue the letter of complaint with Mike.

When Louis mentioned him, she died a little inside. So Mike knew too. Katrina's words flooded back: "They may sleep with the paralegals, but they end up with the lawyers." Tears threatened their way into her eyes, and she quickly nodded and thanked Louis for telling her before making a quick escape. Rather than crumble into a state of despair yet again, she channeled her energy into anger. At Louis, for building up her hopes and crushing them. And at Mike. For not just signing the letter. For avoiding her. For once again, demonstrating the chasm between his Harvard Law degree and her nothing.

She wasn't really sure what she was yelling at him about, when the secret tumbled out of his mouth.

"I never went to Harvard." It made sense. He was too invested in Harvey, more than your average mentor-student relationship. He risked too much, enough to make you wonder if he was just fearless or if he had anything to lose to begin with. But he was so brilliant. So much so that Harvard also made sense. As she processed his words, all she could say was, "What?"

"I'm a fraud," he replied, and of its own accord, her hand blazed a path across his face. So that was it. The illegal test-taking enterprise, the down-to-earth charm. He wasn't like the rest of them. He was just naturally gifted; better than Harvard. It infuriated her.

"Rachel…" She slapped him again. The chasm between them should have lessened, but somehow, it had just grown. He had skirted a system tailor-made for people like him (or really, just him – he was that unique), while it kicked people like her in the ass.

"Rachel, please…" Her hand went up again, but he caught it this time. She had to get away from him. She had been frustrated before she came, had whipped herself up into a state of "righteous" anger that was unjustified. And somehow, he'd knocked out that shaky foundation, only to replace it with something far more solid.

Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Rachel headed for the door, but was stopped again by the familiar feel of his fingers around her arm. She had always been averse to people touching her, but Mike had been getting away with it since day one. Since "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel! I need your help. There's a hearing on my subpoena." Since "Hi there! My wife and I are here to see some of the new units. Isn't that right, honey?" Since "Stop it! She doesn't like it." After that outburst at Kyle, she realized that surprisingly, she liked it when it was Mike.

Mike had gotten under her skin, and turning back to face him now, she could see on his face that she had gotten under his too. He said it earlier, in his preamble to the big reveal – he was determined not to lose her. When he looked at her like that, she couldn't hide it. She wanted him. Maybe more than he wanted her. Probably since their faux-apartment tour, the stroke and weight of his large hands imprinting on her shoulder and waist. His cologne mixing with her breath.

Based on his kiss, she predicted that Mike would be a good lay, so when he turned her down at the end of their dazzling first date, she had cringed internally at the level of her disappointment. But she agreed, "Yea, let's do this right," mentally marking their third date with tingling anticipation. Then just like that, it was over, and she was mourning the loss of a relationship that never really existed.

Mike pulled Rachel into a kiss against the file rack, and it all flooded out of her. Hurt at being turned away by the school of her dreams, relief at finally understanding the man in front of her, and the ache of want that kindled whenever he got too close.

For their first time, it felt oddly familiar. A bit like make-up sex. He didn't enter her slowly or gently, and Rachel shuddered at the sudden intrusion. Mike must have noticed because his eyes flew open to meet her gaze briefly as he waited for her to adjust; then, he started rocking his hips. And they fell into a steady rhythm. Every thrust felt like an apology for all the misunderstandings, his hands clutching the underside of her thighs like a silent plea, begging her not to abandon him.

For her part, Rachel was too far gone to care about her precarious position against the file rack. She was exploding, releasing the tension that had built every time he sat on or stood over her desk, every time their fingers had brushed, every time his charm had melted her anger away or his mind had amazed her. Every time he looked at her with those beautiful eyes.

Mike's eyes were clouded with lust now, but every so often, he stopped thrusting and just gazed at her. She wasn't sure if he was taking a breather or taking her in, memorizing the moment, but his gaze was kindling, maintaining the heat in her abdomen. He felt good inside her.

For someone so controlled, Rachel didn't have trouble coming during sex. She knew what she needed and usually took it, only bothering to make it good for her partner if she really cared about the guy. She rolled her hips into Mike's and squeezed him sporadically, not really conscious of her actions. It could have been an hour or ten minutes, she couldn't tell, but Mike came inside her, his knees resting against the rack for support and his forehead against hers. His hands stroked her thigh and her lower back absentmindedly as he caught his breath. And then he kissed her – small, sweet kisses, before pulling out.

She didn't orgasm, and it didn't matter. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he climaxed, as his breath slowed. Then she wrapped her arm around his neck to kiss him back, clinging to him as he pulled out while guiding her feet back to the ground.

"Oh shit. I came inside you." Rachel's haze cleared with those words. She looked at him with mild panic before releasing his neck quickly.

"It-it's fine." Her voice came out shaky as she readjusted her underwear. "I'll get the morning after pill."

"Oh. Uh, okay." Mike sounded dazed as he tucked himself back in, wiping his hands on his boxers before zipping up his pants. He looked at her, eyes bright with awareness, shock and desire as she scrambled to readjust her dress.

"Rachel…"

"Zip me up." She swept her hair to the side and turned her back to him. His tentative fingers found the top zipper at her lower back and pulled up.

Halfway through, his confused voice: "Wait, how does this dress work?"

Rachel couldn't stop her chuckle, and just like that, the awkwardness between them melted away.

"It's a full zip dress," she answered as he finished the top half. "Zip me down?" She glanced back at him playfully to find his eyes on the swell of her ass. His hands moved slower this time, lingering, and Rachel's breath caught.

"So I could have zipped this whole thing off then." He murmured as he completed the task. Rachel turned back to face him. He looked directly at her as he finished his thought: "Next time." She was too raw to control the smile spreading across her face, so she looked away.

"You should fix your shirt." She dodged, gesturing at his tie. "I'm gonna go first." And she headed toward the door.

"We should talk later. Tonight," he called out after her, as he buttoned his shirt. "I'll find you?"

Rachel nodded as she unlocked the door. With one last glance back at Mike, she stepped out.


End file.
